No Regrets
by BoredOneNight
Summary: Bellatrix's first night in Azkaban threatens what remains of her sanity as she forces herself to dwell on the connection between the Dark Lord and the Longbottoms. First story published on this site.


**No Regrets**

Bella shifted her weight on the dirty stone floor, trying to find a position that would cause less soreness than the way she sat now, back up against the jail wall. Normally she would have been disgusted with the living conditions in Azkaban prison but in her current situation she had other, much more important things on her mind than the filth in her cell…she instead was forced to dwell on the filth that had put her here. Her teeth clenched together as she thought of them.

The Longbottoms…Frank and Alice…Purebloods…disgraces. They had once had all the potential in the world, both of them. Even up till the end, the Dark Lord had sought to recruit them, sway them to his side, and nothing was a higher mark of honor to Bellatrix than her master's approval. As much as she had hated the pair of Aurors, she had been forced to respect them, or at least appear as such. If the Dark Lord thought enough of them to put forth so much effort to convince them, then she, Bellatrix, knew she must make every effort to do the same.

But they sickened her, standing so proudly in defense of Mudbloods and Muggles, earning the fame and love of the Wizarding world, all the while turning the common people against the Dark Lord! They sullied his name every chance they were given, not only with their actions, but with words too. James Potter and even her own cousin Sirius had fallen to the honeyed words of the couple and now stood beside Albus Dumbledore, boldly declaring the evil of the Dark Lord.

How she hated them…

It simply made no sense to Bellatrix, none at all. Perhaps it was the Dementors clouding her thoughts…she preferred to think that was all it was, but in truth she knew she had been contemplating this for months and could find no satisfactory answer, not even from the Dark Lord. Why – why! – did the Dark Lord heap so much praise on the Longbottoms, when they stood for everything Bellatrix and the Dark Lord hated? Why were they so important to him, what had they done to earn his love? Had they been branded with his Mark? Had they killed in his name? Had they doomed themselves to a lifetime of imprisonment in exchange for a final chance to return him to power?

No. No, the couple had spent years wreaking havoc on the Dark Lord's plans, while she had spent her adult life serving him in every way! His desire stemmed from an admiration of their skills, Bellatrix understood that…but were her own skills not enough? Hadn't she undertaken the most dangerous assignments he had given – taken them happily – and proven herself worthy and powerful?

Thinking back, Bellatrix felt a rush of anger, thinking how wonderful it would be to turn back time and eliminate them years ago. To watch their resolve crumble, the arrogance and self-importance fade away…fade, while the Dark Lord could see it. Could reward Bellatrix for doing it. Praise her, appreciate her, tell her how badly the Death Eaters – and he himself – needed her. She had been too late. She had struck after the Dark Lord had disappeared, though she knew, deep down, he would return one day. And then she would finally be rewarded for what she had done. He would be so proud of her, so glad she was with him, when he heard what she had done for him. Two of his arch-enemies wiped out, all in the name of finding him. How could he not be pleased?

Unless….

Unless he was angry with her for ruining what he considered such great talent. Capping nearly unlimited potential. No…surely he would never say those things…she was his favorite. And they were nothing. They couldn't even feed themselves now. Bellatrix cracked a wicked grin at the thought, but it quickly vanished.

The world would see what she had done as retaliation for the fall of the Dark Lord, and they were partially right. She did decide to act in order to try to save her master's life, that was obvious…but it was also revenge for every personal slight they had ever inflicted on Bellatrix. Every time they refused the Dark Lord and he still desired them, every time they spoke against him and he continued to hope for them, every time they fought against Bellatrix, even wounding her, and earned his respect…now who was laughing? She had won, she had won the Dark Lord. When he made his glorious return, tore down the walls of Azkaban and freed her, there would be no doubt in _anyone_'s mind that he loved Bellatrix the most, as much as she loved him.

She looked out through her cell bars and realized a Dementor had been hovering in place directly in front of her cell for at least the last ten minutes. Her hands clenched into fists, her long nails, already dirty with grime, dug into her palms. It was the bloody Dementor that had made her think those things, Bellatrix thought furiously. It had been exploiting her since she had been placed in the cell. She glared straight at it for a moment, not flinching as it looked back, face hidden by its hood. Then, seeming to have lost interest in her, the Dementor slowly glided away down the hall, leaving her totally alone.

Bellatrix shook her head and let out a hissing sigh. She knew the Dark Lord would return for her one day, and that the Longbottoms would never again trouble them…unless their boy, perhaps, came into his own….Bellatrix jumped to her feet and grabbed her hair, yanking it to both sides, then gripping her face in her hands. Why was she still having these thoughts? The Dementor was gone, her mind should be clear now! She began to breathe slowly and deeply, trying to relax her mind.

It was as she took these calming breaths that she realized just how long she might have to contemplate these thoughts…she almost envied the Longbottoms now. They were both in prison, in a sense, but at least they were unaware of how trapped they were. She, Bellatrix, would spend how many years waiting to find out what the Dark Lord had to say to her? As she slumped back down against the wall, she began to wonder just who had gotten the worse end of the battle she had fought against them for the majority of their lives.


End file.
